Dearly Departed
by alpha aquarii
Summary: From a distance she saw the tall, thin figures clad in black and crowded around a casket crying just for show. Everyone had known her first kiss would be in a graveyard. GrimxMandy. Oneshot.


Yay, my first GrimxMandy piece. Kinda GrimxMandy piece. I thought I'd celebrate, cause Cartoon Network is finally working on season sets for Billy and Mandy! W00t! Anyways, this didn't work out how I wanted it to but I guess I'll just keep writing this pairing and at least one story should turn out right, hmm? Unfortunately, I did in here what I never wanted to do ever: I made the characters older. Oh well. Mandy is fifteen in here. Enjoy.

In other words, I think my imagination is broken. I haven't been able to write anything but clichés lately.

**D E A R L Y  
D E P A R T E D**

She twirled in front of the mirror, thin and frowning. The laced edges of the skirt slipped between her legs and pricked unnaturally at her skin like black spiders would. "I don't like this one."

"You didn't like the last five either," the sullen voice responded. "We've only got an hour left, you know."

"I didn't ask for the time." She shucked off the skirt and threw it in the growing pile of black. The changing room was dry and staticky, made more uncomfortable by the fact she was not alone in it. But at least this being radiated ice rather than fire.

She tried on another skirt and glared at her reflection. "I ask you to pick out black skirts for me and you choose one with layered ruffles, Grim?"

"I tought it would look nice on you."

Instead of the heap, this skirt was tossed over the skeleton's head.

"Why couldn't you do your own blasted shopping?" he complained as he shook the article off his skull. She stood frowning at the mirror, her pale adolescent legs bare and her white panties revealed for a few seconds before she reached for another skirt. "And why do I have to be in de changing room with you?"

"Because you're my best friend, that's why. What, getting awkward?" Her tone was flat and sarcastic. "I don't like this one either."

"No…I…it's not your prom, Mandy! I don't see why you're takin' so long—"

But she wasn't listening, turning around in front of the mirror in a different black skirt. "I think this is the one."

Neither simple nor elegant, the skirt hung like hoarfrost off her legs, but that made it all the more fitting. Sewn to the edges were plastic black beads, the kind children play with, and there was a small slit on the side. Almost too flashy, almost too casual. Not the type of clothes she would usually wear. She saw him raise an eyebrow, but cocked her head—the signal—before he could pass comment.

He blasted the security camera in the stall, erasing its footage and discontinuing it filming them. After it was thoroughly deactivated, he lowered his scythe. She couldn't help noticing how his movements were stiff and unwilling while she tore off the price tag. "What? This isn't the first time I've made you do this."

"I know. It…just…"

Mandy gave the mirror one more just-in-case glance while she held her pink dress draped over her other arm. Now she matched; black to black to black. "What?"

"Billy wouldn't have approved," he finished, to which Mandy shrugged, and he opened up the portal.

-

Black.

From a distance, all you saw was black; long, thin, moving needles of night. The sky itself, black, filled with demonic clouds come along to play. The Grim Reaper wouldn't have looked out of place even if he wasn't a regular citizen of Endsville by now. She scowled; even the casket was black. Billy would have liked it to be "pink with orange spots that have a diameter of PIE!" Of course, he'd only told _her_, in that sort of best-friend confidentiality.

It was still all black.

They drew closer, and the scene grew slightly more colorful. Now there were faces and hands that poked out of the eternal black, there were brown and blue and green eyes alike that wept long lines of colorless tears, meaningless tears. Tears that fell upon the dying, parched grass, a ghastly yellow-green hue, and whispered hints of life back into the blades. In dark blue swirls the name was etched into the casket.

She sighed. _Black_.

Gladys began her eulogy, but the words slipped through a sieve in Mandy's mind. Grim stood erect beside her like another one of the faceless figures, and she did not look up at him. It began to drizzle; she didn't mind, it dampened the air and helped do away with the static electricity. She couldn't help wondering at the death. Car crash. Who would have thought such an abnormal boy would meet such a normal end? Perhaps the Fates were confused, perhaps it was a mistake. But she didn't actually believe that.

Black.

For the best of friends; for Billy.

-

The words stopped, the speech was over. She grabbed Grim's bony hand and found a table where they sat alone. Everyone else filed to the refreshment table. Refreshments. They belonged to parties and weddings. Not here, not this.

She watched as the boy was lowered six feet under the dirt and her words came in a hiss. "He told me he'd rather be cremated."

"He probably didn't know what he wanted, Mandy."

"I know," she said. "Get us some tea. Now."

He brought over two cups of Earl Grey. She was glad for something to clutch at and squeeze. It was still raining—they were the only figures without black umbrellas at hand—but the rain was warm, now.

"Looks like I'll have to find a new stupid," she murmured. Cracks were forming on her porcelain cup from her stone grip, which she only tightened.

"Just like dat?"

"Yes." Her tone was patronizing when she spoke again. "You do want a new best friend forever, don't you?"

"Even if I didn't feel nauseous at de idea, I wouldn't be able to," he snorted. "No one can replace him. Billy's name was on de contract."

No one else can replace him. "I know," she said again. The cup finally shattered and hot tea sloshed over her fingers. The pieces were strewn across the table and the tea dripped off the edges, mixing with rain. A shard of jagged china was stuck in the flesh of her palm. She plucked it out to reveal a small cut and buried her hand in the folds of her skirt.

"Do you…miss him?"

She looked up, her gaze flat and seemingly lifeless. Lightning struck and she was blinded for a moment, Grim's face imprinted on the insides of her eyelids. "I knew he'd kill himself the moment we met. You knew his death ahead of time too."

"Dat wasn't de question."

"You could have told me. Could've given me a warning."

"So you do miss him."

"No, I wanted to say goodbye." The raindrops now felt like acid, torching her shoulders and wearing them away. "When he was alive."

"You never wanted to say goodbye to anyone else," he said.

"Billy was my friend, and willingly too." She lifted her gaze to his skull. "Don't you think that's different?"

-

Everyone else had left when she made the demand. "Let's walk."

He was surprised. Mandy liked to be convenient, and there was no better convenience than the Grim Reaper's scythe. "But it's raining."

"Exactly." She set off at a brisk pace, and he followed to stroll side by side with her.

The rain beat at them from an angle, the clouds that immeasurable shade between grey and black. Houses and fences cast shadows over the road, and everything seemed three times darker. It was only late afternoon, but with the precipitation and claps of thunder, the atmosphere was nearly right to make the bravest mortals believe in vampires.

Mandy was soaked thoroughly so that her black blouse and skirt clung to her like ghosts she carried along, and with the rain on her face, he could almost pretend she was crying. He couldn't convince himself though, and they walked in silence. Every few feet a black bead from her dress would come undone and fall on the pavement with a small click.

"We passed your house."

"We're not going to my house," she replied.

She turned in front of Billy's lawn and entered the unlocked residence, sitting down dripping wet on the couch. He joined her as she grabbed a pillow and propped her elbows on it. His robe was soaked too, and he tried in vain to wring it dry.

"He's died many other times in our adventures and you brought him back," she said at last.

"All dose times…it wasn't _his _time yet. Now it is."

"It just won't be the same, I guess."

He didn't say anything.

"Are you happy now?"

He'd expected her tone to be laced with bitterness as the words were biting enough, but instead it was free of emotion. "No."

Silence choked the two; a cliché of all clichés. He didn't mind though, as he felt no immediate need to say anything. He closed his eyes and let out a small breath; part one of forever was gone.

-

That next morning she'd made a strange request. And yes, a _request_, not a demand. As in a question. "Can you take me to the graveyard today, Grim?"

He'd obliged, but mostly out of confusion and curiosity. And a little fear. But here he was, following Mandy as she wound her way through gravestones and fog—the aftermath of yesterday's storm—as if at home. Come to think of it, he'd hardly seen a place that fit Mandy more.

She stopped in front of one particular headstone and grimaced. He caught up to her to see which, though he already knew from the start.

Billy's full name was on the stone, as was his birthday and death date. The epitaph read _BELOVED SON AND FRIEND. WILL ALWAYS BE REMEMBERED._

"Give me your scythe."

"What? I can't do dat, are you crazy?"

"They messed his headstone up." She snatched his scythe from him anyway and blasted the rock before he could stop her. "I don't know any _William's_."

The unfamiliar first, middle, and last names melted away, five new letters being etched in as a replacement. Now the name read simply, _BILLY_.

She blasted the stone again, and the inscription vanished, but she seemed at a loss of what to substitute it for, her hand drooping He chuckled and gently slipped the scythe out of her grip, miniaturizing it and slipping it into one of his robe's pockets

But when she turned around to face him, he stopped laughing. Her eyebrows were half-raised and her mouth expressionless and neutral; she didn't look so much as sad as uncertain.

"Mandy?" he said. "Are you okay?"

She turned back around and sat on the tombstone behind Billy's, her back to him and her feet gently kicking back and forth on the unetched side. He walked to the headstone, standing next to it and sneaking a peek at her face. She was staring out into the foggy distance, the empty-of-life Endsville graveyard. "What an idiot," she murmured. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to say something as well. "Should I be missing him, Grim?"

He blinked. "Ah, I…well, he _was _your best friend. It's perfectly normal for you mortals to feel compassion when someone dies."

"But I'm not normal," she said.

"No, you aren't," he agreed. She shot him that uncertain look again, then turned back.

He'd always wondered what Mandy's reaction would be if Billy died, and he found the reality wasn't so sweet. He'd never known Mandy to look so indecisive. Without hesitating, he circled in front of her.

With her back erect, sitting on the tombstone she was as tall as he stood. Was he invisible? She seemed to stare right through him.

"Come here, Grim."

"I am here."

But she didn't respond. Instead, she pulled him closer, and found his fleshless mouth in an embrace of lips and arms and bodies. He gasped and spluttered as her warmth flooded his dead bones, pressing and rubbing. Fire on all sides, enveloping him—that was what it felt like. She only squeezed him harder until his bones creaked—it was as much an attack as a kiss.

When she pulled away for breath, he took the opportunity to gasp a few words though he didn't need to breathe. "Mandy! What are you…I can't bring him back!"

"I know," she said, "shut up." She closed her eyes and kissed him again. Her lips were the only part of her that weren't burning hot to his bones. He'd forgotten how unpleasant it was to be encircled in live flesh. Her nails pinched the back of his robe into black folds and he could feel her lush, developing curves against his bony chest.

And then—he succumbed. He made no effort to kiss back, but he stopped trying to fight her embrace. Mandy's voice was clear in his mind. _Resistance is futile_. Her kiss, like one of a harpy's, communicated that in the way she grabbed at his bones with hands knotted into hungry claws, how her kiss was hard but not passionate, numbing but not healing. He dared not open his eyes though, for fear of what he might see. It was like hugging a modern-day Medusa.

She pulled away to breathe for a few seconds, but he couldn't think of anything to say, and she kissed him again, fierce and fiery. Was she lonely, were her arms clutching his back trying to communicate that, or was it something more? The fog wrapped tighter around them and he swore some ghosts were peeking from behind their gravestones to watch them.

Did he want this?

Maybe. He didn't know, he couldn't find his feelings under the mess of flesh and lips and skin kissing him. Maybe it was pity he was feeling, but he doubted it. He would let her keep kissing him for now, and maybe, just maybe, he would kiss back…

Mandy removed one hand from his back and immediately it felt chilled as air breathed on the bones. The graveyard was still silent, still choking and still humid. He felt her digging in one of his robe's pockets, felt her hand close around his scythe. It changed back to full size as she pulled it out and broke the kiss.

Still he didn't say a word, just swiveled around in her grip. She forced her hand around him and blasted Billy's tombstone in front of them again. The epitaph began to inscribe itself on the stone, and he craned around her to read it.

_MY ONLY BEST FRIEND FOREVER, BEFORE SOME STUPID JAMAICAN SKELETON ARRIVED._

After laughing long and hard despite the utter gloominess of the graveyard air, he turned back. Mandy's expression was neutral as she handed him his scythe.

He leaned in willingly to kiss her this time, and as the fog swallowed them, he could swear he heard familiar dorky laughter from the clouds.

**End**

I think I stuffed too much feeling in the end kissing scene, but I think most of the rest of it is OK. Con crit would be nice.


End file.
